Drinking Led to This
by KatNinja
Summary: One night England stumbled to America's house, drunk. America put him to bed, and England left the next morning. A week later, England realized that he hadn't seen America since then, not even at UN meetings, and went to find him. AmericaxEngland


Drinking Led to This

* * *

America watched England sleep on his bed. It had been years since England had been to America's house, and had been much, much longer since England last slept over. America did not know why – or how- England had gotten to his house, although he knew that England had been drinking. America sat down next to England on the bed.

"Why are we rivals? Why can't we be friends?" America asked the sleeping England. America sighed, and said,

"I love you, Arthur. Oh, god, I love you. It hurts to love you this much. People may wonder why I declared independence in the first place, then, but I needed to get away from you. You were chocking me. I love you, though. I love you."

America sighed and lied down next to England, soon falling asleep as well.

* * *

"Where in bloody hell am I? Alf-America? What's going on?"

America sleepily opened his eyes to see England standing over him, looking annoyed.

"England? Oh, yeah, you came stumbling over here last night, drunk. You said you had something to tell me and then fell asleep. So I just stuck you in bed, and fell asleep myself."

If America hadn't known that England absolutely never blushed, he would have sworn that he was blushing now.

"D-did I ever say what I was going to tell you?"

England looked very nervous, and America tilted his head, wondering what was wrong.

"No, why? Do you think you know?"

"Yes, I do think I know what it is, and it was stupid drunkenness."

America slowly got up, and asked,

"What was it? I don't care if it was stupid."

"Y-you don't need to know."

"Please tell me, England!"

"No, Alfred! I'm not going to tell you!"

America paused, surprised that England had used his name.

"I guess that it must be very embarrassing," America said, quiet for once, "I'm sorry that I bothered you about it. You can stay for breakfast if you want."

"I think… that I would like that."

* * *

"America-san…? Are you okay?" Navajo, a country who lived in America's house.  
"I'm fine. I just need some time by myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

* * *

"Where in bloody hell is America?" England suddenly demanded, having just realized that he had not seen America in a while.

"No one has seen him in a week. I think he's been at his house the whole time though." Russia said, taking a swig of his vodka. "That Indian-chick of his should be taking care of him, even if something's wrong with him."

"I'm going to go see him," said England, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair and dashing out the door.

* * *

England knocked on the door, just as he heard Navajo yell.

"Alfred! You've been moping in your room this whole week! It's time to get your ass moving!"

The yelling was followed by some heavy coughing.

England, worried about America, knocked again, harder this time. There was the sound of steps and the coughing got closer. The door opened to reveal Navajo, who finished coughing and apologized for it.

"I'm so sorry, England-san, what are you here for?"

"Is Alf-America okay?"

Navajo's face became doleful, and she said,

"I… I don't know. He stays in his room all day and won't even come out to eat. I have to bring the food to him. It scares me."

"Do you know why?"

Navajo shook her head.

"He's been this way since you left last week."

"Maybe I can talk him out of his room."

He walked past Navajo, and towards America's room. He gently knocked on the door.

"Al-America? It's England. What's wrong?"

"Navajo, I know your good at impersonations, but that's the last voice I want to hear at the moment."

"I'm not Navajo-san, America."

"I'm not coming out, Navajo!"

"Damnit, Alfred, stop being daft! Stop stropping around in your room all day and get your arse out here and take care of Navajo! She's very sick! You stupid twat!"

The door opened and America was suddenly hugging England.

"Arthur!" he cried, and slight sob on the end.

"Alfred? Wh-what? What's wrong?"

"I…" America, suddenly realizing what he was doing and what he was about to say, released England from his hug, and said, "Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

"Rubbish. What's wrong with you, Alf-America?"

"N-nothing, England."

"Tell me, America!"

America flinched slightly, and whispered something too quiet for England to hear.

"What?"

"How co-come you never call me by my name anymore. It's always America!" America said, his voice growing surer and louder as he went on, "How come you're always calling me stupid and never say anything nice to me and why, _why_ can't you see that I LOVE you Arthur…? Why…?" Tears were running down America's face now. England reached out to wipe away America's tears, but when America flinched – thinking he was going to be slapped – England retracted his hand.

"I call you America because two hundred years ago, you asked me to recognize you as a country. The day when I had to, I stopped calling you Alfred. I've been mean to you in hopes that I can deny that I love you, and that you would not figure it out. And, Alfred, I couldn't see that you love me, because you never gave me any hints."

America and England stood there, silent, America still crying. Cherokee ran by them, in a hurry for some reason. She accidentally bumped into England as she ran past. England then fell over into America, who caught him only by reflexes. America, off balance then, fell onto his butt.

"England, are you okay?" America asked, slight worry showing in his light blue eyes. England reached up and slowly removed America's glasses, then wiped America's tears away.

"I'm fine. How about you, Alfred?"

America nodded. England smiled lightly, and kissed America's forehead.

"I love you, Alfred. You may be slightly off your trolley, but I still love you."

America gave England a blank look, and England sighed.

"Don't tell me you don't know what 'off you trolley' means."

America flashed on of his famous smiles and said,

"Nope."

"How about 'nitwit'?"

"Hey! Fuck you, jerk!"

"Oh, belt up, Alfred." England said, before kissing him.

* * *

Author Note: I really do hate this title... Anyway, this is not one of my better fics, but I there's not that many fics in the Hetalia section, so yeah.

My Author note from DA: -Squee- EnglandxAmerica~

Yeah, yeah, The Indian(Native American, whatever is politically correct nowadays. I'm Indian too, and I don't give a rat's $$ what it is.) tribe-thingys are considered countries of their own.

I think.

And they're not all girls.

Sioux is a guy.

Any-a-ways, moving on before I get shot...

GOD I HATE ARTHUR'S ACCENT BUT DAMN IS IT SEXY!!

So, because I had to go look up some f***ing British slang because I'm American, I'm going to post some translations... Mainly for myself so when I look back at it, I know what the heck I wrote.

Stropping - Moping  
Tawt - ...... look it up. I'm not saying...  
off your trolley - Similar to off your rocker, a.k.a. Crazy.  
Belt up - Shut up  
Daft, Arse, Rubbish, Nitwit - -_- If you don't know these, then your a moron.

-cries- I hate my title, but I couldn't think of a better one.


End file.
